Publication Plug

In yesterday's blog post, I referenced Conversations Journal. My friend, Tara, is the Senior Editor, and for some time I've been a fan of CJ's Facebook page and perused their website. Recently, however, I realized it wasn't enough and I became a subscriber of this fantastic publication. Published twice a year, Conversations Journal examines one theme thoroughly in each issue.

Currently I am making my way through the issue "The Problem of Pain." With articles written by Philip Yancey, Richard Foster, Larry Crabb, and many other excellent writers, it is not only thought-provoking, but it feels like engaging in a master class on spiritual transformation and the journey of the heart.

Please visit Conversations Journal at www.conversationsjournal.com and be blessed by what you will find there.

Spirit-Led Lent

When the season of Lent began, I felt the call - and desire - to write again. To do this, I've tried to blog every day (except Sundays) these past five weeks. I'll be honest...it's been quite a challenge. I hadn't written anything in nearly a year, so to go from there to writing (and publishing) daily was going from a dry spell to a downpour overnight.

It's been a challenge to write from desire rather than duty too. If I sit down at the keyboard and feel angst about what I'm doing, then I try to walk away. However, I have also had to resist the temptation to give up. Instead, I have to tune in to the Spirit's movement...when I am writing, what I am writing, why I am writing.

On Conversations Journal's blog, Chuck Conniry wrote a thoughtful post entitled "Lenten Angst." It was a timely reminder of what Lent is all about and why we adopt any kind of Lenten practice. Here's a excerpt:

Lent invokes a tug-of-war between our better and worse selves—a tug-of-war to which we would otherwise be oblivious. “The flesh” is that part of our sinful selves that salvation has dethroned but not destroyed. Whenever our flesh goes unchallenged, we are at rest—at home in our less-than-noble selves, blissfully unaware of the spiritual apathy that is silently suffocating our souls. And whenever we apply pressure to the flesh, the struggle commences anew.

In the season of Lent (and in Lenten-like moments throughout the rest of the year), we are drawn from the troughs of slumbering indifference toward new peaks of spiritual vibrancy. But this process is not painless, and the route from trough to peak is hardly intuitive. It produces what we could call “Lenten angst” – a phenomenon that occurs whenever we apply pressure to the flesh.

This is precisely the point at which Lent poses its greatest risk. Like the default setting on my Internet browser, my first inclination is to seek to overcome the flesh through my own (fleshly) effort. My friend’s question—actually my visceral reaction to his question—alerted me to my own Lenten angst, which is nothing other than the product of my unwitting (and ill-fated) attempts to will myself to a higher spiritual plane.

Paul recalibrates our spiritual settings when he says, “Walk by the Spirit and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh” (Galatians 5:16). In other words, trust the Holy Spirit to bear the appropriate fruit in your life (cf. vv. 22-25).

Rightly understood, Lent puts us in a space in which we make ourselves available to the ongoing transformative work of the Spirit. It reorients our interest to things spiritual—and challenges us to lean on the Spirit whenever we feel the creep of Lenten angst.

I have certainly found Mr. Conniry's words to be true as I've practiced the discipline of writing throughout Lent. When I try to make myself write, I am rendered mute. When I make myself available, the Spirit can move in me and through me, can speak to me and through me, and can sustain me and equip me.

Lent

Today, on the first day of Lent, I find myself in an unfamiliar place. Sitting in front of this blog with the intention to write. To be honest, I thought I was finished. After a particularly busy year when the time to write seemed elusive and the desire to write just plain absent, I found the task of keeping up our family's blog just that...a task. Who needs one more job to do, right?

I felt this way primarily because I never wanted this blog to merely be a photo album documenting our family life. No, the idea of Tucker Tracks encompasses a bigger journey...of course including our adventures, but also deeper explorations of the heart, our calling, and the Larger Story in which we (all of us...including you, reader) find ourselves.

To pursue that in this space, I would write. Or that was the plan. Enter 2011 - busyness, distraction, and exhaustion - and this space sat still. Maybe that's okay. We all need times of stillness, and maybe that's true for a blog as well.

But now, as I contemplate what I'm called to this Lenten season, three words keep coming to my mind: pray, worship, and write. So, here I am...day one. Reintroducing myself to my keyboard, training my brain to shape these jumbled words of mine into coherent thoughts, and praying that through 40 days of dedication to these three practices, I will feel an awakening of the heart and experience an intimacy with the One who calls, who I pursue, and who I deeply love.

How are you making space for an encounter with God this Lenten season?

Meandering

When people find out I have a blog, I quickly make excuses for its condition. "It's a bit schizophrenic" is my usual description. By that I'm referring to the second dictionary definition offered: "a state characterized by the coexistence of contradictory or incompatible elements," not "characterized by emotional blunting, intellectual deterioration, disorganized speech, delusions, and hallucinations" (at least I hope not!).

It seems these days that nearly everyone, including my favorite authors, my church, and my veterinarian, have a blog. And many of the blogs out there are finely focused sites with a clear sense of purpose and a set direction. I have to admit...they make me acutely aware of the meandering path of Tucker Tracks.

However, as tempted as I am to make excuses, I don't want to refine this randomness that is our blog. It is its essence. When I began this blog in 2008, the intent was to follow the journey that our family is on. And it's much like the hike we enjoyed this past Sunday.

We set off on one trail, but when it crossed with another we switched paths to discover what lay ahead. We did this many times, and in the process we stumbled across wildflowers, streams, tree galls, silkworms, a bog, and a meadow. If we had stuck to one path, oh, how much we would have missed!

In our meandering, we had a more complete picture of the beauty of the landscape surrounding us. And hopefully in our meandering here on Tucker Tracks, we impart a fuller picture of the beauty of our life and the journey we are on.

For it is a journey. Each photo shows a glimpse of growth, a little love, and the delight of discovery. Each essay tells about the deeper journey of the heart. So, welcome. Thank you for joining us as we wander in our own way here. We hope that you'll find the incompatible somehow compatible and be blessed.

Pseudonym

This morning as I was helping out with a project for church I came to the moment that is always tricky for me: the moment when I am asked to declare my title (or occupation). Generally it happens at the doctor or school as I am filling out the patient/parent questionnaires. In my flurry of scribbling down the usual facts, I come to this one and pause.

I know many women who gussy up the term "homemaker," feeling it doesn't properly reflect all we stay-at-home moms do ("domestic engineer" being the most common that leaps to mind). My pause this morning, however, came not from a hesitation to label myself a homemaker. It came from a resistance to label myself something else entirely.

Writer.

My kind friend who was working with me on the project stated matter-of-factly that this is what it would say under my name. Instantly my stomach churned and I felt warm. I had to correct him. To admit that it felt untrue. To suggest that we stick to something that I know to be true: "Wife, mother, friend." Yes, yes, and yes. This is who I am. But writer?

Long after he was gone and the project was finished, I was left thinking about my hesitancy to label myself a writer. Why? Well, first of all a writer writes. And I have to confess I haven't been doing much of that lately - at least pen to paper (or more accurately fingers to keyboard). My head has been busy cataloging story ideas and blog entries, but that seems to be as far as I get these days.

What would give me the confidence to call myself a writer? If I were published? If I posted fresh material faithfully to my blog? If I had an audience of readers?

Truth be told, I've known I was a writer since my high school crush admitted my letter made him pull over his truck as he read it on the drive home. I've know since my essay was published in our senior yearbook. I can still remember the response of my classmates. I've known since my first college English class when the professor (notoriously tough to please) praised my first essay. I've known as I've worked with student writers, edited professional writers, and mentored (and been mentored by) aspiring writers.

To say that I am something doesn't mean it must be my occupation. Wife, mother, friend...not my occupations, but essential parts of who I am. In the end, I see that adding "writer" to this list isn't a deception but an admission - I am a writer. It is part of my gifting and part of my glory.

It takes courage to say it; it takes even more courage to believe it. But here it is (I'm not sure the fill-in-the-blank is long enough to hold it all): "Daughter, sister, wife, mother, friend, seeker, student, believer, mentor, teacher, leader, listener, encourager, worshipper, ponderer, and writer." I'm sure that answer will merit a double-take at the doctor's office.